


Sylvain's Early Morning Treat

by SluttySylvain



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Male Lactation, Nipple Play, just purple prose of sylvains enormous jugs LMAO, thats literally it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SluttySylvain/pseuds/SluttySylvain
Summary: Sylvain wakes early to a stream of early sunlight through his curtains.  What better way to spend a morning by himself than playing with his voluptuous knockers?
Relationships: sylvain/his tits
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Sylvain's Early Morning Treat

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first fic. hope u enjoy gestures vaguely whatever this is

When Sylvain first woke it was to a sliver of golden sunlight streaming in through the dark curtains in his room. It cast across the floor, onto his king-size canopy bed with deep wine-colored sheets and thick blankets to keep him warm in the cool Margrave estate. It just barely misses Sylvain’s face, the streak illuminating his collarbone, glowing in the early morning light. Sylvain shifts, turns to his side, the covers slightly drawn down with him, exposing more of his back to the strip of light. It casts small shadows, exposing the dip of his spine, the form of his well muscled back flexing slightly with his motions. Sylvain tosses a bit before deciding to finally wake, sitting up in bed against his many soft pillows. Sylvain’s bare chest is kissed by that early morning glow and as he fully wakes, he realizes something.

His tits ache.

It wasn’t a bad ache, per say; it was akin to when he sat on his ass or on his feet for too long, a hazy feeling like dull pins and needles pricking the tender, supple slabs of his breasts, accumulating in his still soft-but-perky nipples. The tingling in Sylvain’s bosom encourages him to play with himself during this quiet morning, lazily squishing his mounds between his biceps to watch them protrude out, rounding and bulging out with heaviness. The line of light streaking across his bust accentuates their round nature, casting dark shadows into his cleavage. He might see shadows on his stomach too, if his rack weren’t so huge. Sylvain relaxes his arms and brings his hands up to grasp himself, letting out a soft, pleasurable sigh.

Really, he is such a whore.

Sylvain’s hands work slow, handling his own bosom with just a hint of roughness, groping himself at his own pace. Being in bed with other people may be fun, but a man’s gotta have time for himself! Sylvain looks down as he holds his bust in his large hands; he watches in awe as the soft flesh bulges and strains against his fingers, spilling out in the gaps between. He always had a nice set of pecs since his body had developed. Not just slabs of muscle, like some of his former classmates and now colleagues, but sweet and voluptuous fruits, ripe and fat. His nipples, now awake alongside him after being bore to the cold air, are even sweeter, deep-pink and large, firm pointy things, perking up at the slightest bit of attention, ready to be lavished upon. He took pride in his large chest, knowing his healthy melons to be so soft and heavy that those little tips fell and faced downwards, his breasts having to be worked to get the little candies to face out and up. 

Relaxing against his many pillows, Sylvain could feel the yielding points against his palms as he massaged his tits, letting go and watching them jiggle ever-so-slightly. He could see his nipples just barely as they pointed out and down shyly towards his bed, the covers mussed just so from playing with himself. Deciding to escalate his morning playtime, Sylvain takes a pointer finger to each nipple, meticulously massaging the tips, then the bases, alternating in a delicious circle. Sylvain is feeling it, the tingling and headiness accompanied with pleasuring himself mixing with the haze of sleep still half upon him luxuriously, bringing him to a floaty feeling that permeates through his whole body, warmth emanating straight from his perky teats. He can hear himself making soft moans and sighs as his globes and their small mountains are worked, the tender flesh coming to attention at his methodical motions with his calloused, rough hands, the slight drag of hard against soft a welcome feeling. 

Sylvain could see the little transparent beads forming against his nipples, finally yielding to what they were made for. He brings his fingers to grasp each nipple, pinching with his thumb and pointer onto the little buds. He pinches and pulls and tugs at his tits, the beads growing bigger and he gasps. Sylvain teases himself harder, feels his ass hungrily, desperately clench around nothing, and his milk finally releases. Sylvain feels a shiver up his back as the left teat gives a little spurt while the right oozes happily; both seem to exhale as they break the floodgates, hot sweet milk seeping out, trickling down his gracious boobs. The milk flows in a steady stream, forming little rivers that Sylvain can feel trail down his stomach, reaching down to his groin before the thick fluid dissipates and is absorbed by the sheets. 

He knows that he’s hard. He can feel his eager bottom half stir in excitement, both the front and back hungry for some sort of stimulation. He rarely touches his dick anymore, though. No need to. Why bother when he can feel even better with his ass and tits? Sylvain settles and wiggles his butt as he feels his asshole wink against the silky sheets, just a bit damp, the ring puffy from when he last played with himself. It’ll be played with again in good time, but for the time being his impressive, luscious chest is his main focus. 

Sylvain briefly stops his shiver-inducing assault on his buds to bring his fingers to his mouth to taste himself. The warm milk had pooled and leaked onto his fingers as he played with his nipples, his milk now sticky and thick on his digits. Sylvain opens his mouth and wraps the warm, wet space around the milk-covered fingers, tongue swiping over, under, around, and in between each little nook and cranny to get his fill. His milk tastes heavenly, creamy and dense, sweet, yet almost meaty in a way. He can’t get enough. He brings his fingers back, pinching and abusing the now dark red swollen buds, groaning as he coaxes more milk out with extreme ease. His tits were heavy, after all. Sylvain would gather the milk flowing down his torso if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to keep it there; feeling the small flows down his torso only teased and turned him on more. He brought his fingers back to his mouth, moaning around them, head upturned and eyes half-lidded, as he got to taste more of his milk. 

He had been playing with himself for so long he could already feel the bliss coming onto him; his little high from when the milk first breached only served as an appetizer for the true pleasure about to take hold of his body. Sylvain gives even more forceful tugs at his sensitive nipples, his pliant tits stretching just slightly as he pulls the puffy points off of his quaking breasts. His milk flows in a steady stream, gushing as he makes a final tug at his nipples, so painful it is rapturous, and is struck by orgasm. The warm and fuzzy feeling now slams into him, the tingling sensation rocking through him, pleasure resonating from the tips of his chest. Sylvain comes dry, feeling his hole flutter and dick twitch uselessly while his whole body is subjected to the euphoric sensation of release. His head tilted back, eyes wide and mouth slack as he wails into the quiet morning, back raised and arched from the headrest, ass grinding back against the mattress. 

The pleasantly exhausted man collapses against the many pillows in his bed, eyes glassy and misty with unshed tears from his orgasm, mouth still hung open, panting slightly. He lays there, soaking in the afterglow, feeling his rivers of milk slowly dribble out, stiff nipples excited and begging for more. When the feeling almost fades, but not completely, Sylvain lifts his heavy arms and uses his rough hands to rub the milk into his skin, quivering as the texture rakes over his overstimulated body. Sylvain continues to rub his milk onto his body as he finally wakes up, getting out of bed and drawing the curtains, basking in the late morning sun. Today’s gonna be a good day. Maybe someone will want his milk.

**Author's Note:**

> after, sylvain breasts boobily down the stairs, his ginormous manmilk-filled knockers bosomously bouncing


End file.
